PUNISHED!
by AngeloftheMorning1978
Summary: Warning! Erotica! Sequel to "PROTEST!". As news of strikes, women's rights and social upheaval outrage Ariadne, how will Arthur handle such a willful wife?
1. Chapter 1

**_First, I need to apologize to all my awesome followers. It's been very hard lately to write. I'm now working a job that has 0% downtime and when I get home, I'm very tired. Sucks. _**

**_When I do have time, I spend it on Netflix. A tool of the devil! I'm also reading more. Right now, I just finished reading "The Shining Girls" pretty good book. I will try harder to write everyday again. I'm also reworking some of my old stuff. _**

**Warning! Erotica! Sequel to "PROTEST!" **

PUNISHED!

1.

**~ 1907 ~ **

~ Arthur was fond of the exclusive social club near his office he belonged to. It was a fine set of rooms that were filled with comfortable arm chairs, tables for playing cards at, and a full bar with an experienced tender to pour drinks. The rooms were all given dark wallpaper, all the better to display photographs of hunting trips on, and the air stank of cigar smoke and dry talks of business and politics. Nothing about the club lent itself to the female persuasion. Indeed, a woman wasn't allowed to set foot here, not even to clean.

As Arthur was among the younger, more successful business men in the group, he had to suffer with the overly ambitious of his generation for talk. He was still in the category of 'New Money' and those with more connections had little to do with him.

"I tell you that these unions are a travesty. A bunch of thugs wanting to destroy the country. I took out a large loan to bring in new equipment, now I'm in danger of losing all my workers? It's only going to to hurt these greedy people." one of his contemporaries were saying.

"I agree it will hurt growth." said another.

Arthur said nothing. He was too young, too newly accepted in this world to speak his mind. No one would listen to him anyway.

"Mr. Brandon is it?" came an amused voice from another table.

Arthur turned in his seat to see an older gentleman smiling at him.  
"Mr. Clark." Arthur said and stood to shake his hand.  
"Won't you join us?" Mr. Clark asked and waved to an empty chair in a tightly formed group of older men. These were the city's most wealthy and influential. Men who owned department stores and who made fortunes in coal and shipping. More accurately, their grandfathers had made money doing these things.

"Thank you, sir." Arthur said happily and sat down next to Mr. Clark.

"Do you play at all?" Mr. Harper, vice president of the city's largest bank, asked. He was dealing cards and asking if Arthur wanted to be dealt in.

"Certainly." Arthur nodded. He was very gifted at gambling, although it was a vice like anything else. His mother had always taught him he was just as apt to lose as to win.

But he kept his mouth tightly shut and let the older men speak.

"I understand your wife just had a baby. Congratulations are in order. I trust the pair of them are well?" Mr. Clark said.  
"Very well." Arthur said happily. "We've a son named Charles. He'll be three months old tomorrow."

"A son!" cried one of the men. "Splendid. Will he take over for you one day? Running the accounts and all?"

"I hope so." Arthur said shyly. He wasn't sure how to relate to these men.

"Thank goodness it wasn't a girl, Mr. Brandon." another man laughed.

Arthur paused. He felt like a trap was being set up for him.

"Oh?" was all he said.

"Well yes." the man, a shipping magnate, went on. "With your wife behaving as she does. Arrested and all last year. What was it? Oh yes, wanting the vote. Obscene."

Arthur felt his face burn as he looked at his cards. He pulled free a five dollar bill and placed it one the table.

"Mrs. Brandon believes in many fashionable things." he said at last.

"Oh, it's _trendy_ to have the wife of a respectable man protesting in the streets?" huffed another player as the second round of cards was dealt. Arthur had a good hand and he tried not to show emotion to their harsh words.

"I think I saw your wife last year, sir." another man said. "Small thing. She had rotted fruit thrown at her? Terrible to see. I would hate to have my dear Penelope treated that way. Still, if you're indifferent to her actions simply because they are fashionable."

The older men chuckled and Arthur said nothing.

"I wouldn't care how fashionable this silly women's movement is. You'll never catch my wife or daughters on the street like that. It would be the day they would leave my house forever." Declared another man.  
"Now, now." Mr. Clark said as Arthur counted forty dollars had been added to the center table. "Mrs. Brandon was younger then, and foolish. We must not forget that motherhood must have quieted her down."

"I should hope so." said a sever old man who raised the stakes to twenty dollars a hand. Arthur didn't flinch as he fished out the larger bill.

The older man preached on.

"Because I can't see how you would be welcome in any respectable club if you're wife was to shame her own husband so publicly again."

Arthur recognized the older man as Mr. Horn. He owned several factories in the city and was at the center of his own controversy.

"I call." Arthur said darkly and laid out his hand.

The other man huffed at the flush he had. All of them looking at the younger man with the crazed wife with deep content.

"Very nice game." Arthur sighed and neatly stacked his winnings in front of them. He was quick to pocket their money and leave. His jaw setting so hard, he thought he might break a tooth.

~ There were never enough hours in the day for Ariadne.

"Now, Charlie, we mustn't play with mother's books." she scolded her son gently as he batted at her reading. She had a to prepare a argument for class tomorrow on the labor crisis as well as pen a letter to that ghastly Mr. Horn.

Ariadne sympathized with the strike leaders. It was too much to ask of entire families working in mills. Of children not getting an education, of workers getting sick from bad conditions. Why, it was little better than slave wages what some of them made.

She kept a weather eye on little Charlie as he crawled across his large quilt to his other toys. Since he had become more mobile, the whole world was open to him now.

As a result, Ariadne kept the front room as baby friendly as possible. Gone was the marble table top, glass objects, Arthur's secretary and fire place pokers. All that was left was the sofa and Arthur's reading chair. Things Charlie couldn't hurt himself with. Ariadne flicked her eyes to her son, realized she couldn't study and watch him at the same time, and closed her book.

"Charlie Brandon." she called to the infant who ignored her. "When are we going to stand up? Mother is very excited to see that."

Her son ignored her, found the stuffed bear his father had given him and promptly started to chew on it's nose.

"I take it you're hungry." Ariadne laughed to herself. "Not to worry. As soon and papa comes home, we may all eat dinner together."

"Madam?" came a scared little voice from the hallway.

Ariadne looked up to see Anne, the young nanny look in.

"Would you like me to take him now? It's almost time for him to eat." the younger woman asked. Anne was not even twenty, but had been care taking children since she was a child herself. Ariadne couldn't find fault with the very young girl, but she disliked having to rely on someone else to care for her son. Still, her own mother employed a nanny, and it was the civil thing to do.

"I want Mr. Brandon to see him before dinner." she said to the nanny who bobbed a little curtsy and left.

Almost as if she had summoned him, Ariadne heard Arthur's footfalls on the steps outside of their town home. Her husband wasted no time in letting himself in and shaking off his coat.

"We're in here!" Ariadne called to racket he always made when coming home. Mrs. Marsh, his housekeeper for many years, rushed to meet him in the hallway, and helped him put away his coat properly. Ariadne accepted she was Arthur's maid and never really hers. She really only took orders from the man of the house.

But all that was forgotten as soon as she saw her handsome husband appear. He was dressed nicely as always, and looked relieved to be safely home.

"I wanted Charlie to see you before dinner." Ariadne said contently as she watched Arthur pick their son up.

Charlie wasn't as impressed with Arthur as his mother was. He took it for granted the things and people in his world. He knew his mother and father doted on him and that it was his right to be spoiled and adored.

"How was the club?" she asked him after Charlie, resigned to being held contented himself on his father's lap, playing with his large hands and trying to chew them.

"Boring." Arthur admitted. "Nothing but strike talk."

"It's that Mr. Horn." Ariadne hissed. "I've read about him in the papers. He hires children as young as five and pays them less than a dollar a week. He takes their rent out of their pay and gives them no choice about where to live. It's not capitalism and he needs to be arrested."

She was about to go on when her husband let out a long sigh.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"No. Just hungry." he said.

She could always tell when he was lying.

"Mrs. Marsh will be serving dinner soon." she offered.

"Well, Charles is going to be fed by nanny tonight. Last night you barely ate a thing trying to feed him and yourself at the table." he said.

"I like having Charlie at the dinner table. His highchair wasn't in the way." Ariadne smiled as she noticed for the thousandth time her son had his father's odd little ears.

"No. We've hired the nanny to take him so we can have a civilized meal." Arthur said coldly. "I won't have you feeding a baby, making a mess, while we eat. It's not how things are done for people of our society."

Ariadne almost laughed, but realized he was serious.

"Arthur, what is it? What wrong?" she whispered.

Arthur ignored her and let Charlie gnaw on his fingers some more.

"I think we should turn the sitting room back. What if we have company? The furnishings are not suitable for company." he said at last.

"Charlie could knock something over-"

"_Charles _has his nursery for playing. The sitting room is for adults." he interrupted.

Ariadne opened her mouth to argue when Mrs. Marsh came in followed closely by nanny Anne.

"Dinner is ready, sir." she said and Ariadne could only watch as her husband handed Charlie over to the young nanny and leave.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

~ Ariadne undressed in her own room. Nanny Anne had already fed and put Charlie down to sleep by the time his parents had finished eating. Arthur insisted they have dinner alone, but didn't want to talk about why his mood was so dark. Could it be the strike talks were worse than she feared? Arthur's business was dependent on immigrant labor, and if his factors were shut down, what would happen to them?

She had asked him about the news papers, but he carefully avoided the subject of strike workers and news of safety violations. He also didn't want to talk about the women who had recently been arrested for protesting. Subjects they used to talk about very freely until recently.

Her curiosity was alerted to her husband's sudden change, but he wouldn't comment on it. Not even to argue with her about her stand of labor abuse.

She pulled off her cumbersome winter garments, taking her underthings off in one easy swoop and ran a hot bath for herself, trying to think on what she would say in her letter to the factory owners who employed children. It wasn't enough to just write letters or boycott items. A law would have to be passed.

Since Charlie's birth, she looked at every child now with new eyes. How would she feel if her precious baby were made to work in a dirty, dangerous factory? It was immoral to do such a thing and immoral to keep silent as such a thing went on.

She would have to talk to Arthur about it.

~ Arthur had likewise retreated to his rooms for the night. He was feeling cranky over what happened at the club. How other men were mocking him because of his willful wife. Men who had no idea what his wife was really like. Who didn't see how amazing she could be. No, they didn't know his family. Didn't understand that the world was changing and they would soon be left behind.

He helped himself to the decanter of strong sipping whiskey he kept on his dresser. He almost never drank, but he wanted to feel a little light headed tonight. His day had started well enough. Ariadne had come to him in the night and they had slept in the same bed. She wasn't interested in being with him like they were before the baby was born, but it was nice feel her warm, sweet smelling body next to his. To have her kiss him as they talked about trivial things. How she wanted new curtains and wallpaper in the dining room.

He hadn't pressured her to have relations with him yet. He wasn't sure how much time she needed after the pain of a baby.

Motherhood was good to his wife. Her skin took on a radiance that he never saw on her before. Her body had changed as well. What was once the slender body and narrow hips of his bride, was now the soft rounded curves of a woman. Her body was in full bloom in a way that made his pulse quicken.

He let out a tired sigh, and relaxed in his chair. Ariadne was at it again. Having the baby had distracted her, but only yesterday she was talking about the news and of politics. About unions and children working in factories.

He admired her passion. But it was misplaced. Perhaps if she had been born a man, she could have made great changes in the world, but she was a wife and mother now. Her passions belonged to him and their son.

He looked around the room. As if to make sure he was truly alone, and reached for a nearby book. It was a dull book of accounting practices that no one would find interesting, and made for a perfect hiding place.

He pulled from it, the secret stash of risky photographs he kept hidden. On a whim, Arthur had ordered them from a shop in Paris. They were discreetly delivered to him in the mail and told the scandalous story or a fine, victorian lady, prim and proper doing very naughty things with a well endowed man who was not her husband.

These images of the lady performing these amazing acts stirred Arthur's imagination. He particularly loved the prim young maid putting the strangers member in her mouth. Her wide eyes looking up at him as if she enjoyed it. The only clothing on her body was white stockings and a hair ribbon.

He went through each picture as the stories progressed. A woman being kidnapped by a wealthy suitor whom she had scorned. He forces her to submit to him. Once the initial pain of penetration was over, she turned into a ravenous harlot. Demanding her new lover take her over and over again. It was all very unlikely, but Arthur found his breathing picking up at the sight of the poor girl being mounted. A pleased smile on her face as her bare body was displayed for all the world to see.

His wife would never do such a thing. She insisted on being covered at all times.

Ariadne. He missed her. Missed their coupling to the point he felt his body might break.

His hand fell into his lap were he could feel the hardness starting to swell. The sights of bare flesh in these photos, of women with pert breasts, and lovely smiles. Of women in such compromising situations made his face flush hot.

He stood carefully, and tucked the photos back into the book. It had been long enough, he would have his wife tonight.

~ Ariadne was happy to notice her hair had grown out some from her impulsive cutting a year ago. One of the things she regretted most in her life was cutting her long mane of hair off. Arthur had always enjoyed her hair and when it was shorter, she felt oddly less attractive.

She carefully brushed out the painful snarls and worked in an oil to make it shine. Mrs. Marsh swore it would help it grow faster as well. A thing Ariadne wasn't sure she could believe.

She thought she might go to Arthur tonight and stay. She wanted to talk about what was bothering him. About how Charlie was crawling and how her speech was coming along. Her husband, even when tired, would always listen to her worries.

She wondered when she should be with him again. Her body felt so strange to her after Charlie's birth. It had been an unpleasant ordeal; giving birth. The midwife coming in and making Ariadne strip wholly naked and squat over a tin tub for most of it. Gravity helping the baby to turn and come out. The process of bringing babies into the world was a great burden and embarrassing as well.

Then there was pain that lasted for days on end. The aches, and her whole body swelling and turning into something she had no control over.

But in the past month, she felt more normal. Her son seemed to want to eat more solid foods which gave his mother a much needed break from feeding.

She was about to throw on a robe and sneak out to her husband's room when there was a harsh knock on her door.

Mrs. Marsh had a more gentle knock as did the nanny. It could only be Arthur.

She felt her heart race slightly. Her husband almost never came to her room. Not once since Charlie had arrived. Funny ears and all.

She hesitated before answering it. Sometimes, things still felt so new and awkward with Arthur. Like they were strangers living in the same house.

"Arthur?" she whispered as she opened the door and he silently slipped in. The hallway was dark and Mrs. Marsh and the nanny were no doubt asleep.

"Did I wake you?" he said in a hard voice. His tone had taken on a breathless, needy quality.

"No, I was having a bath." she explained and took a step back. A fear gripping her belly.

"What's wrong?" she whispered.

Her husband closed the door behind him and his eyes grazed over her.

"Ariadne, it's been long enough." he said in a cold, demanding voice.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

~ "Have you been drinking?" she asked as he stalked to her, his large hands touched the fabric of her night gown. Instinctively, she stepped away again as his hands went around her waist.

"A little." he admitted with a deep sigh and she could smell whiskey on his breath. Her skin sensed that his body was tight with repressed needs and a hunger that wanted to be satisfied.

"Arthur." she managed to say soberly as he started to kiss her neck. She felt a delightful rush of happiness race through her body at the contact.

She knew he loved her. Knew that he absolutely adored her when he kissed her like this. She tried not to giggle as her head started to spin from happiness. He was pulling her body close to him, muttering how she smelled good, that he was lonely, that he needed her when she felt the hardness of him on her hip.

A sharp cramp made her flinch. The memories of labor and delivery of Charlie came rushing back. With them, the days and weeks after when she had been so sore and tired. Her poor body exhausted and spent  
"Wait." she whispered.

"No." he said stubbornly and continued to kiss her neck. His hand slipping inside her night dress and cupping a tender breast.

"Arthur." she flushed and pulled away.

He was breathing hard and for a moment, she thought he was angry at her for stopping.  
"I _need_ you." he said roughly.  
"I think it's too soon." she whispered and buttoned up her night dress. Her nipples becoming hard from the sudden contact of a demanding mate.

"Are you still…" he asked discreetly. Good manners making him shy to such matters of the female body after a baby.  
"Not as much." she admitted. She didn't relish the idea of having Arthur take her like he used to. Her husband was a wonderful lover, but he wasn't subtle.

"I'll be gentle." he said huskily. "I promise."

"Arthur, please." she said as his hands were on her again. Wanting to feel her breasts, Wanting to touch her all over. "It's just too soon."

He pulled away from her. A look of anger flashing in his eyes.

"I see." he said at last. "It's been several months since Charles was born."

His voice was cold and professional in it's detachment.

"I know." she said meekly. "We can stay in the same bed… if you want."

Her offer seemed insufficient and he shook his head.

"No." he said at last. "I want my wife. Are you afraid I'll hurt you?"

She had no response for that and only shook her head. Couldn't he see she wasn't as attractive anymore? Everything on her was swollen and sore and disfigured. She hadn't felt any kind of urge except to eat and sleep lately. Relations with her husband were the last thing she cared about.

"Why won't you tell me what's wrong, Arthur?" she asked instead. "You came home tonight wanting the sitting room put back so Charlie has no place to play. You've been in a bad mood all evening."

"Nothing's wrong." he said too quickly.

"You used to tell me things." she whispered softly.

"Ariadne, you wouldn't understand." he said at last. "It's not for ladies-"

"Arthur." she interrupted. She wasn't about to buy into that old excuse.

She expected her husband to argue with her more, but he shook his head and let his fingers trail into the dark locks of hair that were still damp from her washing.

"I'm glad your hair is growing out." he said simply.

She could feel a blush creep over her face as her husband was mesmerized by her hair.  
"Ariadne, there are other ways to satisfy me." he whispered in her ear even though they were alone.

As soon as he said this, her skin prickled with heat. She knew, of course she knew what he meant. Arthur had a vivid imagination when it came to carnal things. How he came up with these ideas, she had no clue.

"Don't send me back to my room like this." he whispered in her ear and pressed her had to his groin. She could feel his erect member through the cloth of his pants and her belly cliched tightly as the thought of how he would ravage her.

She trembled slightly.

"What… what do you want?" she asked.

"Your mouth." he whispered. "Like you did before. You know I loved it."

"Arthur." she gasped and tried to pull away. Her husband's hands holding her body close to him. Preventing her escape.

She couldn't deny, didn't want to deny, the need to satisfy him. He was so easy to please at times, even if the act was bizarre to her.

"Please?" he whispered.

She pretended to think about it. Try to give him an act of hesitation before 'reluctantly' giving in. She bit down on her bottom lip, looked shy and embarrassed as he was pulling her to him. His whispered pleas for affection making her skin heat up as his breath tickled her ear.

'_Make it good_.' she told herself as he guided her to the bed.

She had serviced him a few times before. He had always enjoyed it, although she never understood why. Her husband was so eager as he unfasten his belt and pants and sat on the edge of her bed, his wife settle on her knees in front of him.  
"I love you." he whispered as she thrust her hands into the fabric of his pants to find his member.

She was never shocked anymore to find him erect. She had been married to him for over a year now, been his lover and had his child. His anatomy didn't shock her like it used to. Still, there were things she had to learn.

She stroked his hardness gently at first, teasing him as his own large hands showed her how hard he wanted her to grip. How firm and how quick her movements needed to be.

She liked to see him like this. For a man, he was in a very helpless position just now. Like he was her willing slave. He would do anything for her as long as she satisfied him.

The thought made her smile a little, and she licked the head of his maleness just to torment him.  
"Mrs. Brandon." he warned. His voice labored as her hands went back to pumping him steadily.

She only smiled sweetly and looked innocent.

Poor, Arthur. Poor man was breaking under his wife's abuse. She refused to give him all he wanted and he had to suffer as she stroked him, licked his shaft without taking him all in her mouth, until his hands were in her hair, wanting to pull her lips over his member.  
"Please." begged roughly as she only kissed the head of his need.

"Please, what?" she asked innocently.

"You know what." he said in a dark gravel like voice.

"Oh, darling, I'm afraid I don't." she said and licked his head again. "Is this what you want?"

Her breath and lips started to kiss his shaft all the way down. Her poor husband shaking and taking a firmer grip of her hair.

"Or this?" she mewed up at him.

She was like a cat, with a mouse just now. Playing, teasing her prey before the kill.

"Ariadne." he groaned.

"Or this." she whispered happily as she parted her lips over his head and started to suck him as hard as she could. She refused at first to take all of him in. She kept just his head in and could feel his response to her by the way his hips almost jumped off the bed. Trying to shove himself deeper into her mouth. His hands in her hair as he tried to push her further.

Somehow, she resisted. Her finger nails raking his shaft as she only sucked and licked his head.  
"Damn it, woman!" he bellowed angrily and she knew she had broken him at last.

With a sweet sense of victory, she took him. Her mouth taking in as much of him as she could. Her teeth respectfully moved back as she sucked, up and down on his member. Her poor husband, a broken man now, panting in exhaustion at her torture.

She didn't stop with just one part of his anatomy. Arthur had insisted she learn how to truly satisfy him as her free hand gently cupped the tender sack at the base of his erection. He was sensitive there, and could only stand so much before he exploded.

He was panting hard and she could feel his hands shake as he pulled her hair up and then back down at a faster pace. He was close and he wanted her to go faster.

She obliged, making her mouth something for him to enjoy. Allowing him to use her till she felt him sharply spasm. His entire body jerking and almost ripping her hair out.

She felt him explode and didn't have time to pull away before the taste of him, salty, wet and too hot was in her mouth.

She had swallowed some of him and was coughing violently as his own hands went to finish her work. Her face polluted with his climax and her hair and nightgown soiled with evidence of their perversion.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

~ Arthur immediately attacked her.

"I'm sorry." he panted trying to clean off the aftermath of his satisfaction. He was on his knees beside her, trying to smooth away his misfortunate miscalculation.

Ariadne blinked stupidly. The taste of him was still in her mouth and she felt some breech of manners had occurred on his part.

"I'm so sorry." he whispered in her ear. "I didn't mean to."

She nodded slowly and tried not to think about how her skin and night dress were now covered in his hot ejaculate. Nothing like this had happened since they had been married. Arthur had always been so controlled. She had trusted him without fail to know when he was close. To warn her before such a thing could happen.

"Ariadne." he was saying over and over again. She blinked, her mind too numb for words and looked up at him.  
"Thank you." he whispered "That was wonderful."

"Oh." was all she was able to say in return.

"Let me take care of you." he said gently.

She didn't fail to notice that he had fastened his pants again. He had hidden all evidence of his own lust, while she was still a mess.  
"What?" she asked.

"Lay on the bed." he ordered.

His hands went to her hair, and he was kissing her lips and face. Her skin still burning with shame and shock at what he had unleashed on her just moments before.

She complied simply because she didn't know what else to do. Her husband was always the one to come up with ideas in these matters. He was always the one to guide her.

"Arthur!" she cried out as he made quick work of pulling off her night dress. She tried to stop him, but he was so much stronger than her. She hadn't bothered with any under garments after her bath, and quickly tired to shield her breasts from him.

Arthur would never be deterred that easily.  
"Arms down." he said in a harsh tone. "Let me take care of you."

She tried to grab her night gown back, but her malicious husband held it away. The air on her naked skin, still hot with humiliation, felt cool. She gave her husband an angry look before letting her arms fall to her side.  
"Don't question me." he said coldly, but his eyes were alight with mischief.

Tempted, she did as he asked. Her modesty, ever inconvenient, made her unfold the bedding, before climbing in and covering up.

She heard her husband chuckle as she secured her covers over her naked body.

"Always the lady." he observed. "Always the prude."

"I think I disproved that tonight, sir." she countered.

He nodded in agreement before throwing off her covers, and starting his assault.

~ In her wildest dreams, Ariadne could not have imagined such a thing. Didn't understand at first what he was doing when he tore her bedding off and forced open her legs. He didn't try to take her, as she had expected, but was instead met with a very curious, tactful contact.

Arthur's hands, callused, strong and warm were touching her. She gasped slightly at the feel of his fingertips tracing over her wetness. She was surprised she was already aroused. Normally, when servicing him, she always thought it was more for his pleasure and not hers. But she was clearly already pooling with lust as her husband tickled her folds into submission.

"Arthur?" she questioned as she longed for him to kiss her.

He wouldn't have recovered so quickly as to take her. He had powerful needs, but not so strong as to rebound in just minutes.

"You looked so beautiful." he was whispering. "We really must have your photograph taken sometime."

"What?" she giggled as his fingers danced over her heated desire. He was rubbing her tenderly now. His hands caressing her most intimate parts.  
"Maybe I could buy my own camera." he said to himself. "Take pictures of you."

She wondered what he was getting at when she felt a hot, wet wave of delight rush through her body. Unsure of what to do, she cried out and tired to snap her legs shut.

Arthur's head was between her legs, his hands preventing her from closing off access to him. His hands pushing her thighs down.

It was too much for her to handle. Her sex seemed to bloom and grow like fire left unchecked. Her skin turned hot as his mouth tickled over that mysterious place he seemed to control so well.

His breath, panting like a dogs' would, and his facial hair scratching at such tender pink flesh made it all the more unbearable.

"Arthur!" she hissed angrily.

He ignored her and pushed her legs down, till she had no other option but to grab his hair in retaliation.

Without realizing it, she pushed his face into her wetness even more. She could feel his breathing, feel the heat of his breath and mouth dancing and tickling her. Fell him penetrate her this way till she started to squeal.

Her flesh was on fire and the covers were too hot. Her nipples perked up in sympathy to the rest of her body and she shuddered in delight.

Happiness, the kind she had forgotten after Charlie was born, ragged through her body.

"Arthur, please!" she begged as his fingers took over the work of his mouth and her crawled to her. His lips tasting her naked flesh till he finally reached her erect nipples.

She was still tender from nursing Charlie, but her husband, her tormenter, didn't seem to care. He kissed her hard nipples and bit them slightly making her body shake.

Volts of electrify seemed to jolt though her. Her toes were curling when he abused her like this. Her climaxes coming so rapidly, she barely noticed him sliding himself into her.

He was hard again already. His maleness slipping in and out of her with such dominance, she could do nothing to stop it.

Arthur had pulled her up by the hips and we using her like she was just an object. Allowing her breasts to bounce with each thrust and he took her.

He used her body for his own needs. There was no other was to describe it. He wasn't kissing her anymore, just subjecting her to relentless pounding with a renewed energy and lust she had never seen on him before.

Thankfully, she was wet enough to take him. Her own body hot and willing to have him as he drove himself in again and again.

He didn't last as long this time. He let out a pitiful groan of completion. His face contorted as she could feel him climax. The heated places between their legs, a mess of hot wet body fluids now.

He fell back on top of her. His breathing labored as if he had been running.

Woman's instinct kicking in, she cradled him in her arms as he laid on top of her. Their bodies sweating and exhausted. Arthur was still in his day clothes.

"Thank you." he managed to gasp at last.

She kissed his temple and felt him start to fall asleep in her arms. He made his normal snoring sounds just before she drifted off as well.

~ He whole body felt heavy and sore as dreams chased her into wakefulness.

"Ariadne?" he husband was whispering. "It's morning."

She let out a groan and hid her face in Arthur's chest. He had fallen asleep in his clothes. An unheard of thing for him. He didn't even remove his shirt when they had made love. She grinned shamefully at the memory of last night.

"I'm still mad at you." she told him sleepily.

"Over my faux pas?" he offered and she knew he was teasing her.

"Yes." she said stubbornly.

Her bedroom was still dark even with the approaching dawn.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked.

She finally opened her eyes to see him. His face worried and kind as he brushed back a errant strand of hair.

"No." she said truthfully.  
"Are you sure?" he asked.

She only smiled as she looked at him.

"Charlie has you your ears." she whispered.

"How unfortunate for Charlie." he mused dryly.

"He's so wonderful, Arthur. He's the best thing I've ever done."

"I won't have you mothering the boy too much." he sighed.

"I was thinking of dressing him in pink and renaming him Mary." Ariadne teased.  
"You will not." Arthur said and she delighted in the knowledge that she could so easily anger him.

She was smiling and Arthur slowly realized she was only joking.  
"I'll have to go to work today." he whispered. His lips on her shoulder. "What will you do?"

"I have letters to write." she told him. "That horrible Mr. Horn and his oppression of Irish workers needs to make the papers."

"What?"

"He hires children as young as five and has them work in dangerous factories twelve hours a day. He makes families live in these horrible slums and charges them for it. The city needs to know what he's doing." she told him.

"Ariadne, do not write to Victor Horn or to the papers about him." Arthur ordered.

"Why not?" she laughed.  
"Because I said so."

"That's not a good enough reason."

"It's going to have to be. Victor Horn is very powerful and he's well regarded in our social circles." Arthur snapped.

"For basically using slave labor." she retorted.  
"Ariadne. Do NOT write anything to or about Victor Horn." he ordered.


	5. Chapter 5

5.

~ Ariadne tried to gather her concentration and ignore the pink roses Arthur had sent her that morning as an apology for last night.

They had arrived, via carrier in a plain box and she had the right to trim and arrange them as she liked. Arthur was always one to accept defeat with grace.

She had placed them on the dinning table, well out of reach of Charlie, and started her letter.

_'Mr. Victor Horn,_

_Your actions of late can no longer be tolerated by the decent people of this city or country. Your abuse of the poor and needy will not stand. You've taken advantage immigrants, reducing them to nearly slave labor. You've installed yourself as a part of a dictatorship which our government will not stand for-'_

She scowled at the ink blot that had suddenly appeared on the pristine cream paper. Her pen leaking a little and spoiling the whole effect.

She was never very accomplished at writing with pen and ink. She had always made a mess of her own writing and her teachers had grown so frustrated with her, they made her write only in pencil. Arthur could write swift, boring letters of business and personal correspondence with ease. All in ink, without even trying. His neat little cursive without so much as a blob bleeding through.

She sighed and wished for a better system. Writing in pencil wouldn't do, the newspaper wouldn't take her seriously. It had to be in ink, on her very expensive personal stationary she had gotten as a birthday present last year.

Her initials were stamped in gold at the top and the paper was wonderful and heavy. But she was not suited for writing this way.

She tore up the letter and tossed it aside. The writing had to be perfect. She would try again.

~ Arthur stretched out in his favorite chair. This was the best time of day. The evening sun had set, street lights were on. Mrs. Marsh was cooking dinner and his wife and son were settled neatly on the sitting room rug. The baby chewing the face of his new teddy bear.

"Do you like the roses?" Arthur asked as his wife tried to encourage Charlie to crawl. The baby, like his mother, wasn't about to do anything he didn't want to.

"Very much." she told him.

"It was an apology for my ungentlemanly conduct last night." he said. His skin felt hot at mentioning it again. His wife had been so beautiful, he didn't even want to leave her that morning. It felt like they had found something they had lost after Charlie as born.

Ariadne avoided looking at him.

"And you think flowers will do for an apology?" she asked. Her attention wholly on Charlie.

"Arn't they?"

She rolled her eyes and he could see a slight smile coming to her face.

"How was you day?" she asked instead.

"Very busy." he sighed. "There is never enough time to do the things I want. The way this country is moving forward, we won't know ourselves in another fifty years."

"Let's hope so." she added. "I want the world Charlie inherits to be nothing like this one."

"You may want for another world, dear, but I happen to like this one exactly as it is." he snapped.

"You only like it because it benefits you as it excludes others. Think if you were on the losing end. If you had to work in a factory-"

"Then I would work my way up to foreman and then owner." he interrupted. "Advancement is there for the taking. There are those who just want a hand out."

"Oh, yes." Ariadne chuckled as she picked up Charlie and held him close. "People leave their homes, their families just so they can live in sheer poverty, work twelve to sixteen hours a day, six days a week and still look for a hand out."

Arthur wanted to say something, but sensed Ariadne wouldn't see reason.  
"Immigrants come to this country looking for opportunity. It's here if they want it." he said.

"That's the thing, it's not." she told him. "It's not there for women, or for children in the factories who miss school. It's work all day and still not make ends meet."

"I don't know who talks to you about this."

"No one." she snorted. "It's in the papers. The times have been doing a serious review on all the workers and your friend Mr. Horn is the worst criminal of them all."

It seemed that was it. The discussion was over. Mrs. Marsh appeared a few moments later and the nanny took Charlie.

"Oh, Mrs. Marsh." Ariadne said when she gave the fussy Charlie over to his nanny. "There are some personal letters I need mailed in the morning. You'll be going by the post office on yur way to market, right?"  
"Yes, ma'am." Mrs. Marsh said happily.

"To whom are you writing?" Arthur asked.  
"Some old school friends." Ariadne said airily. "News about Charlie and the decor of the nursery."

"I see." Arthur said grumpily. "And what news is that?"

"Things that women find interesting." Ariadne told him. "I like to hear about their families and children. They like to give me advice about Charlie and hear about his progress."

Arthur nodded, pretending to understand, but didn't.

It seemed to take forever for Mrs. Marsh to leave them in peace. Arthur anxiously waiting for the older woman to leave before he whispered.

"I was thinking you might stay with me tonight." he said and looked for Mrs. Marsh to appear. "In my room."

Ariadne sat up, her dinner barely touched, her mouth opened in suprise.  
"I had a busy day." she told him softly. "Tending to Charlie and all."

"I see." he whispered. "Are you still angry with me?"

"No, not at all." she insisted and her cheeks flushed pink.

"I promise it won't happen again. Not like that." he insisted.

She looked away.

"I'm just tired, Arthur. I think I'll just read my book and go to sleep." she said at last.

Arthur had no choice but to leave her alone. He nodded and sat back in his chair. His body still longing for her as they ate dinner.

~ True to her word, Ariadne went strait to bed after dinner and he was alone to read the paper downstairs. He had hoped they could have some time to talk, but Ariadne seemed so distracted. Surely news about a baby and nursery decorating couldn't be that engrossing. Nor could any of her silly novels she liked to read.

Arthur felt his eyes twitch in tiredness and finally cast the paper aside in favor of sleeping.

The whole house was quite except for the ticking of the mantle piece clock. Mrs. Marsh and nanny had obviously gone to bed already.

He was most likely the only one still awake. He turned down the lights in the sitting room before noticing the collection of neatly addressed envelops sitting on the hall table.

He normally never cared about Ariadne's business with her old school friends. She wrote to them often about women's things, and he had no interest in them. But the sight of black ink instead of pencil on the expensive stationary caught his eye.

He knew his wife well enough to know she always wrote in pencil and never in ink.

He plucked up the top envelope and saw it was addressed to the local paper. Another was sent to the mayor of New York and even the governor.

Arthur could almost hear his heart racing as he tore open an envelope addressed to Victor Horn.

His anger rising at the idea Ariadne had so defied him.


	6. Chapter 6

6.

~ Ariadne had fallen asleep while writing a rough draft of more letters. She planned to send them to shops in the city who bought things from Mr. Horn's factories.

Her eyes were tired from all the reading and writing she had done that day and wondered how Arthur did it. He was always reading something or jotting something down. Her hands had been stained with black ink from her writing, but she had done it. Over twenty letters viciously attacking Mr. Horn and other factory owners in the city. As well as a few to very prominent members of government.

She was very proud of herself and the hopeful change they would bring. Maybe the governor didn't even know about the factories. That was always possible, although the newspapers were always reporting it. Mary and her women's group were always talking about the plight of the children in factories. That it was a woman's duty to defend all children of this world.

On that thought, Ariadne dreamed of Charlie. How the little baby with his funny ears and big eyes, was her contribution to the world. How she could mold him into becoming the kind of man who would change the world. How she should start talking to him about politics and human rights as soon as possible.

Because he was male, he could make a difference, and thusly, she had made a difference. She dreamed of Arthur being angry that she had raised their son to be like this, and the thought made her smile.  
"Ariadne." came a cold, demanding voice.

She opened her eyes and fear ripped through her body. She knew Arthur's voice when she heard it.

She had curled in bed with her papers, notebooks and news articles around her. A perfect nest of evidence should her husband come in.

Immediately, she sat up and faced the demon.

"What time is it?" she asked sleepily.

"Have you written to Mr. Horn?" he asked by way of an answer.

"What?"

"Have you written to Mr. Horn?" he asked again. His voice now casual.

"I…" she had to lie and do it quickly.

"Let me make it simple for you. You _did_ write to Mr. Horn and several other factory owners whom I see everyday. You've also taken the liberty of writing to the governor and mayor." he snapped. His face now pulled into an angry scowl.

Ariadne shrank back from him. She had never seen him this mad before. He was always a little cross with her. That was the nature of their relationship; but he restrained that anger like any gentleman would. Now, now he looked at her with such loathing, she felt she had wounded him beyond repair.

"I did." she said bravely. "I wrote to them."

"After I forbade you not to." he breathed. She saw he was holding one of her letters in his hands. The expensive stationary wrinkled from him clutching it so hard.  
"You've opened my mail?" she breathed.  
"You disobeyed me." he snapped.  
"You opened my letters to other people? How dare you!" she claimed. Her body remembered to move again and she was out of bed and trying to grab her letter away from him.

Arthur quickly held it aloft in a childish game of keep away.

"Do you realize that our social standing would be ruined if these letters were mailed? That Charlie's chances to be received in polite society would be gone if you had, once again, gone on to make a spectacle of yourself?" his voice was cool and dangerously calm.

"How would it hurt Charlie to tell the world the truth? Other people do it!" she hissed before finally stanching back her stationary. The paper ripped in places and needing re-writing.

"Those people are not us. They have nothing to lose. Your realize I represent Mr. Horn's business? How would it look if my wife sends out scathing letters to the public about him. I told you to leave Mr. Horn alone. I told you to give up this obsession you have for trouble and you willingly defy me at every turn!"

His face had come so close to hers, she was afraid he might hit her.

"Don't!" she snarled back and tried to pull away.

His hands were gripping her arms tightly and refusing to let her move away.

"Ariadne!" he growled.

"I'm not your servant, Arthur. You can't command me like you would a maid." she spat back.

"You are my wife. You're duty is to keep my life, my house and my name honorable." he said darkly.

He suddenly released her and she felt a pain go off in her heart. She regretted writing those letters now. The look on his face was one of deepest hurt.

"I've treated you with honor and love. I've respected you and your modern ideas to the point I've been made a laughing stock. Why can't you do the same? Why can't you bend a little?" he whispered.

Ariadne opened her mouth to say something. Her torn letter was clutched to her chest.

Her cause was worth fighting for. Without someone to say something is wrong, evil will aways win. How could he not see that?

She wasn't able to speak as she watched her husband angrily remove his belt. Her first instinct was that he wanted to take her to bed again, but she quickly realized he had something else in mind.

"What are you doing?" she croaked.

A strange sense of giddiness racing through her at the memory of what her husband used to do with a similar leather strap. All of this was before their son was born of course. Her husband had been nothing but a gentleman after the baby arrived. Treating his wife as though she were fragile and not a woman at all.  
"You know what I'm doing." Arthur said in a dark voice. His eyes refusing to meet hers as she automatically backed away from him.

"Arthur, I'm not just your wife anymore." she panted. Part of her wanting to avoid his abuse, another part of her longed for it. "I've given birth to your son. I'm… I'm a mother now."

"A mother who needs to be more focused on our son than in politics." he retorted. "Take your night dress off."  
"No." she told him defiantly.

Arthur's eyes snapped to attention and finally looked at her.

"I promise, when this is done, it will be over." he said softly.

"Unless you feel I've defied you again." she huffed. Her words dripping with sarcasm and her desire became hot with anticipation.

"You _did_ defy me." he said smoothly. "Now, take off your night dress."

She wanted to argue, but her body, her long neglected body, overruled her. Her skin already felt hot and her face was flushed. Arthur never made love to her like he did after times like these. Not that she defied him on purpose. Did she?

Without another word, she slipped off her night dress, and let it fall to the floor. Her naked skin exposed to him without shame.

"Turn-" Arthur tried to say but his voice broke slightly. "Turn around. Your back to me."

Ariadne was breathing hard as she did as he said. What would this time be like? Would he swat her with innocent, teasing punishments then make love to her? Or, given the harsh nature of her supposed crimes, would he really hurt her?

She could sense him standing away from her. She had hoped that he would spank her with his bare hands. A practice she had always enjoyed because it wasn't painful and he was closer to her. But her husband stood away. His body language indicating he didn't want to be around her, or even touch her. She heard the leather belt sing through the air before it hit her buttocks and back with a cruel, burning sting.


	7. Chapter 7

7.

~ Ariadne jumped and tried not to cry out in pain. The stinging slap of his belt burned her buttocks and made the rest of her flesh hot with embarrassment.

Arthur had always played this game of theirs with a certain sense of affection. He had made her feel positively giddy with excitement each time and made her secretly want more.

Now, it was different. It was hostile and rude. No love or affection was between them now.

She bit her lip hard as the belt lashed across her bottom again and covered her chest with both arms. This wasn't the intimate, teasing fight they had before. Arthur was angry and he was hurting her.

"Do you understand?" Arthur said suddenly. His voice was bitter and wavered a little.

"Yes." she whispered.  
"Good." he muttered and she listened hard, waited for him to hit her again. Waited for him to approach her with his hands. Hands that might lightly slap her on the bottom again. Hands that would hold her down as they made angry love.

Not that she would let him. She was flushed with anger at the moment. Her pride and body wounded.  
"No more letters. Ever." he said darkly.

She only sniffed as she heard him leave her room. Her flesh stinging her from the violence that was over as soon as it started.

When she heard her door shut, heard his feet marching down the hall and his own bedroom door shut, she allowed herself to cry softly.

Her night dress felt uncomfortable back on her body. Her buttocks still hot to the touch as she dug out her regal stationary and started to re-write her letter to Mr. Horn.

Oddly enough, her hands were shaking, but her writing was clean in the ink she had so much trouble with. Her sentences flowing out of her with more passion than ever before.

~ Arthur almost collapsed in his reading chair back in his room. His erection becoming painful now that he had left his wife. She had looked beautiful in front of her fireplace. Her pale, naked, skin was luminous before him. The curves of her bottom, her slender back, and her dark hair falling over. She was always like something out of a fairytale.

He let out a long sigh of frustration. His temper had gotten the better of him. He hadn't meant to hurt her like he did. Didn't mean to take it so far. Her skin had turned red at the contact of his belt and he instantly regretted his actions. Before, she had tormented him with her defiance, but he wasn't as angry as he was now.

He had never been as angry as he was now. He hated that he had to strap her, but such a thing couldn't be helped. He couldn't afford a wife who continued to disgrace him. It didn't matter that she was beautiful and intelligent. It didn't matter that she had given him a perfect son.

He felt a slight headache come on and tried to think of something else. He wished he wasn't so mad all the time. Wished he had enough money and influence so that Ariadne could be herself. He was well off, but his clients would shy away from him if word continued to spread about how willful his wife was. If he couldn't control her, what else couldn't he control?

He ran a hand over his crotch and felt the hardness demanding to be satisfied.

He found the ever trusty book where he hid his pictures and quickly flipped to the most salacious.

A small woman with dark hair, not nearly as beautiful as Ariadne, sitting on a couch. Her body was a little too oddly proportioned for Arthur's taste, but she was naked and had a happy smile on her face. Her hands were bound behind her back, displaying her large breasts.

Arthur read the story that went with the pictures. A story of how she didn't cook dinner and had to be punished.

_Punished_. The word sent a shiver of happiness through him as he watched the scene change. The girl, still smiling, was laying face down on a bed.

Arthur started pumping himself lightly.

The girl, still tied up being struck with a ridding crop. Her smile still plastered on her face. He wanted Ariadne. He wanted to do this to her. Wanted her to enjoy it like this girl was. Wanted her to smile and her body be warm and ready for him.

The girl was leaning over a chair to receive more 'Punishment' as a faceless man spanked her with his bare hands. Spanked her with the ridding crop and always, always, she was smiling. After her punishment, the story ended with the well endowed girl cooking dinner totally naked. Her smile as bright as ever.

What wouldn't he give to do this to Ariadne? To see her small body, tied to perfection as she willingly took a punishment from him. He felt heat rushing over his body and before he could stop it, he was climaxing into his handkerchief.

His head hurt from images of the ugly woman in the pictures. He had no desire for her other that what she was doing. He had totally lost interest in her now an was ashamed he had become aroused.

He longed for his wife. He loved Ariadne for her defiance, but wanted her to submit to him at the same time.

He threw his handkerchief away, carefully hid his pictures again and went to bed. His dreams now troubled with images of a beautiful, faceless girl, with dark hair. She was laughing at him as he punished her.

**Sorry for the long absence. I've been working on rewriting some of my stories. **


	8. Chapter 8

8.

~ Ariadne sulked as Rosalyn Chase held and clumsily coddled Charlie. The baby was at the enjoyable age now where he could smile and respond to his world. He was trying to stand on Rosalyn's lap and didn't like it when anyone but his mother or nanny held him.

"Oh, he's lovely." Rosalyn decided smiling sweetly at Charlie.

Ariadne managed a weak smile. She wasn't sure what to do with herself after the unpleasantness of last night. Her bottom still hurting from Arthur's whipping. Her pride more than anything, sorely abused.

"I wish my boys were this age again. I loved those moments when nanny brought them to me. All clean and rested. Then we would have company and I would show them off. If they grew bothersome, I just handed them back to nanny!" Rosalyn laughed. "Motherhood is so taxing."

Ariadne couldn't see this woman having four boys and a girl. The boys were all at boarding school now. Had been shipped away at the age of five or six. An age when, according to polite society, the male child mustn't be coddled too much by women, but made ready for the world.

"Was it hard sending the boys away? Seeing them only for Christmas and summer holidays?" Ariadne asked. She couldn't imagine not seeing Charlie, funny ears and all, everyday.

"Not at all." Rosalyn laughed. "I had enough to deal with. What with running the home, attending to ladies meetings. I was relived to send them off. You will be to, when the time comes."

"I don't think Arthur and I will send Charlie off." Ariadne said and reached for her baby.

Rosalyn Chase wasn't a friend of her own choosing. Their husbands worked together and Arthur approved of her spending time with a woman like Rosalyn. A woman who had children, who ran a very fine home. Who made her husband look good, and bore him four rowdy boys who would one day run the world.

In short, Rosalyn was meant to be Ariadne's role model.

Ariadne looked at the middle aged woman, as she handed Charlie back. She wasn't terrible nurturing, and hadn't seen her children in months. Yet, she was always going Ariadne advice about Charlie to the point where the young mother was fit to scream.

"I think Arthur will have Charlie to go to his former school. It's where he and Reggie first met. Where my own boys are now." Rosalyn informed her as she smoothed down her skirts. Careful that the baby, clean or not, hadn't messed anything up.

"I don't think-" Ariadne started to argue.

"And where was it you said you went to finishing school, dear?" Rosalyn asked lightly. A knowing tone of mockery in her eyes.

Ariadne knew exactly what she was driving at. Rosalyn had attended a very refined girls finishing school that put her in the path of eligible bachelors with means. She was accomplished at needle work, water colors, piano, the harp, singing, dancing, most modern languages and romantic literature. Ariadne had, reluctantly, attended a less cultured school in the city. She was taught the civil arts of being female, but couldn't claim the same education as her new peer group.

"See, it is important we get our children off on the right foot." Rosalyn said. "What, with the world changing as it is. Immigrants with their filthy ways and all. Taking over the public schools that we pay for. Creating a gutter class that is living so close to our own. It's disgusting to think my own son's might bring home some Irish girl or worse." she shook her head in worry. "That's why we have to educate them now. Send them to the right schools, to the right universities, set them to meet the right kind of girl, the right connections. You don't want Charlie here to slave away in some book keeping office supporting a loud mouth Irish whore with a litter of crying brats at home do you?"

Ariadne shifted uncomfortably. She didn't like it when Rosalyn spoke like this. The woman was so devoutly opposed to immigration and suffrage, that Ariadne always felt out numbered somehow.

"So, you must listen to Arthur when he talks about schooling for your own little prince. He must be sent to a proper school. One where he will be around his own class. Where the teachers and head masters will keep him disciplined. You and I, all mothers in fact, are too soft hearted with our children. That's why it's best to have them raised by professionals. Make them ready to lead the world." The older woman added with a smile of affection.

"What about Julia?" Ariadne asked weakly. She clutched Charlie tighter. "Your daughter?"

"Well, she's to be taught at home till she's ready to go to finishing school." Rosalyn laughed. "Girls are different. They need to be coddled and protected at home. Kept away from the influence of others until they are older."

"And what if some finishing school makes Julia join the suffrage movement?" Ariadne challenged. "Like you said; the world is changing. What if one of your sons marries and Irish woman who believes in suffrage? What if your new daughters in law are actually educated in the world?"

Ariadne tried not to shiver as Rosalyn cast her an icy glare.

"What will you talk about then?" she asked as Charlie squirmed happily. The baby unaware of the cold change of subject.

~ Arthur came home right on time as always. He shook off his coat, put his hat on the entry hall mantle, and looked over the mail there. He was pleased to see no new letters for Ariadne. Perhaps she had gone through the post before he got home. He would have to speak to Mrs. Marsh.

For now, he was more troubled about what Reggie Chase had said at the club that afternoon. Apparently, Rosalyn had come to the office and expressed how she didn't want Ariadne to come to her home anymore. Reggie, good man that he was, laughed it off.

"Women. Never sensible. You'll see, they'll work it out and be plotting against us in a few days. Just like there're are supposed to. I suppose they had some silly disagreement over… over… baby things and such. You know, the kind of thing women are always talking about. I'm rather glad my Rosalyn has me sleeping in the other rooms these days. No more children and no more headaches. Except for my little Julia, of course. I think I'll keep her at home forever. Never let her get married. She's only eight of course, but already planning her wedding. She told me just the other day she wanted violets in her veil. I can't tell you how pleased I was. My little angel with a pillow slip on her head, instructing me how I'm to give her away."

Reggie smiled sadly.

"Will break my heart when the day finally comes. My Julia going away with some scoundrel. Come now, let's have a drink, play a hand before we have to go home to the women."

Arthur liked Reggie. He was a simple man who wasn't ready to judge like the other men at the club.

"Reggie, if you'll be discreet about the disagreement my wife had with yours." Arthur said quietly as he spied the older men at another table. Rumors about Ariadne, he arrest last year, her radical views, were things that were still whispered about.

"Of course, sir." Reggie laughed. "If you'll keep quite about the cow my wife can be. I can't tell you how ready I am to be dead and shut of her completely."

Now at home, he heard Charlie in the sitting room. The baby noises, the sounds of toys being knocked around. His wife's voice, happy as she played with her son.

"Charlie, knocking over all your blocks!" she teased the boy as he sat in front of her. The wooden blocks scattered around him. His arms pumping happily as though he had done something remarkable.

He watched them for several seconds. Ariadne, unaware that she was being observed. Or so he thought.

"How was your day?" she asked, her back to him. No doubt she had heard him come in.

"It was very nice. Till Mrs. Chase visited." Arthur said.  
"Oh? That didn't take long." Ariadne said ideally.

"Yes, something abut her sons marrying whores and becoming a member of the petticoat party. Being whipped by women in some obscene gender reversal." Arthur sighed as he sat in his chair and watched Charlie try to chew one of his wooden blocks.  
"I said no such thing. That vial woman blew it out of proportion." Ariadne said.

"Well, Reggie laughed it off. Only because he agrees she's vial." Arthur told her.

Ariadne was quite.

Arthur was quite.

Charlie gave out a cry that insisted his parents pay attention to him.

"Rosalyn says you'll send Charlie to boarding school." Ariadne said at last.

"I think right now he's a little young." Arthur told her. "Not even talking yet."

"Arthur, don't tease." Ariadne snapped.

She turned and looked at her husband. Her eyes, so large and bright with intelligence and feeling, he felt calmer.

"Is it true you plan to ship him off to some course school where he'll be whipped by brutal teachers? Made to learn latin and bullied by rich sons of privilege till he's no better than those horrible men in congress?" she asked.

"For your information, my dear." Arthur sighed. "I really haven't given much thought to his education."

She turned away from him.  
"But yes, I would like him to go to my old school. It's a top rate institution-"

"Institution." Ariadne huffed. "That's it precisely."

Arthur looked at his hands.

"I don't want to talk about something that is years away." he said at last.

She took Charlie's block away from him and said nothing.

"I want to talk about last night." he said at last.


	9. Chapter 9

9.

~ Ariadne only pretended to sulk while Arthur curled a tendril of her hair around his finger. The long, silk like tresses always fascinated him.

After they had put Charlie to bed, a new thing for both of them. Arthur had coaxed her to his rooms. Mrs. Marsh had left a cold dinner for them, even though neither one of them had any appetite.

Instead, they settled in his bed. Ariadne only slightly uncomfortable resting her head on his chest. She liked the sure, strong way he breathed. It was comforting to her, the rise and fall of his chest.

They had engaged in small talk. Updates about Charlie and the weather mostly. After that, a long silence fell on them as she listened to him breathing.

"People are starting to talk." he said at last.

Ariadne had found herself scowling at a painting in Arthur's room. A boring landscape with only grass and blobs for trees. She guess he overpaid for it. A dingy little painting any child could do.

"What?" she asked after several moments. She had heard him talk, but his words didn't seem to reach her. Her mind was too befuddled with other thoughts. About her women's group, that horrid Rosalyn Chase, Charlie going away to school, her letters, her classes in the humanities. Her mind had never been so full, or so distracted.

"I said; people are starting to talk." Arthur told her again.

"About?"

"About us." he said. A hot tone of anger in his voice.  
"So? Let them. People will always talk." despite her protests, her curiosity was raised.

"What do _they_ say?" she asked. Putting a special emphasis on the vagueness of they.

"_They_ say you're out of control. That a man who can't control his wife, is not to be trusted." he told her.

"Same as always." she sighed. "You knew you couldn't control me when you married me. You said you didn't want a plain, boring wife anyway."

"I don't." he agreed. "I do love your passion."

His fingers unlaced from her hair and roamed down to cup her breast. Ariadne tried not to smile.

"But I don't like your name talked about." he said stiffly. His large hand moving away from her breast and curling her freed hair into his fingers again.

"That hardly matters." she said stubbornly. "What matters is the good we do. That's all history will remember. History isn't made by silly wives who do water colors and gossip about Mrs. so-and-so's daughter in law."

"And happy husbands are not made by willful, disrespectful wives." he argued.

Ariadne moved away from him. Her eyes glaring at him with a fire fit to burst.

"It's always about your own happiness." she accused.  
"My happiness is our happiness." he said. "I thought you would be content with… with your studies and with Charlie. I thought those things made you happy."

"They do." she told him honestly. "But having Charlie made me think about what kind of world we're to leave for him. I don't want another privileged son shutting the doors of opportunity for people just because it might endanger the wealthy. The rich have enough money and influence, they don't need more. I want Charlie to be a better man than that."

"A better man than me?" Arthur challenged.

He and his wife exchanged cold looks.

"All parents want their children to be better." she whispered.

Her husband pulled away from her slightly. His eyes casting down to her small, perfect hands.

"I know that you feel you have to save the world, but you keep failing to see that is makes a laughing stock out of me. It will give Charlie a black mark on him before he can even talk." he said softly. His tone as though he were talking to an over excited horse.

She leaned away from him.

"Is that why you felt the need to beat me again?" she said fearlessly.

Arthur's eyes grew wide, but his jaw remained set.

"I didn't beat you." he said calmly.

"With a belt." she whispered.  
"I disciplined you. I corrected your behavior." he said. A hot flush tinting his cheeks pink.  
"With a belt." she repeated. "I would have thought being the mother to your son would have changed your feelings to me. That you would see me as something more… sacred."

"I would have thought being a sacred mother would mean you wouldn't go off picking fights you couldn't win." he snapped.

She gapped at him. Shocked he finally had the nerve to say it.  
"You won't win the vote, Ariadne." he said at last. "Young women are making a spectacle of yourselves all over with this nonsense. It goes against the wisdom of the man of the house."

"Man of the house?" she teased. She laughed as though what he said were truly funny. "You think that all this is because of the vote? It's much more than that, Arthur. When I see pictures of Child laborers in unsafe factories, I always see Charlie."

"That won't happen to Charlie." he interrupted.  
"So, what? Because a mother is poor and has to send her child to work, she deserves to run the risk of losing him to fire or being mauled by those machines? All to put bread on her table? How is that mother different from me? How is Charlie different from other babies who grow sick and die because of poor health or living conditions."

"The difference is the father." Arthur snapped. His dark eyes becoming dangerous. "The difference is that you and Charlie have me to care for you. A man isn't a man until he can provide for himself and his family. I prove for both of you and you will respect that."

Ariadne opened her mouth. She meant to argue more, but something much more intriguing came to mind instead.  
"Or what?" she whispered. "What will you do if I keep defying you?"


End file.
